


The Game

by HogwartsDuchess (NephthysMoon)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-16
Updated: 2006-10-16
Packaged: 2017-11-19 21:16:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/577748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NephthysMoon/pseuds/HogwartsDuchess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s really no plot, sorry…well, I guess – no, never mind, and, it’s really short.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Game

**Author's Note:**

> Serious Dubcon, BDSM roleplaying going on in this little ficlet, written AGES ago for the smut_friday community on livejournal.

Her breathing was ragged. Any moment now, she would explode, and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it. She struggled, bracing her feet against the bed and pushing her hips against her captor’s, hoping to throw him off balance.

 

“None o’ tha’, now, luv,” he growled before she felt a stinging slap across the face. She turned her head towards the arm pinning her hands down. Bracing herself for another slap, she sunk her teeth into his arm. His yelp temporarily gratified her, until she realised that he was still thrusting with that insistent, torturous rhythm deep inside her. She felt another thread of her control snap. She had to escape.

 

For her efforts, he rewarded her with a swift tug on the ends of her hair, securely trapped in his other hand. Ginny felt several strands of hair break off into his hand. She forced herself to go limp. Immediately, another slap snapped her eyes open and she glared at him, allowing all of her anger and hatred to show in her eyes.

 

He laughed. ‘You’re awful pretty when you’re all riled up,” he whispered in her ear.

 

She screamed, twisting her hips in a desperate attempt to get away. Oliver placed his left arm flat against her throat and slapped her, hard, with his right. Supporting his weight on his left arm, he increased the tempo of his hips, slamming his cock into the trembling, screaming girl.

 

She was getting close now. Oliver kept coming at her faster, and he was punctuating each thrust with a swift slap to the side of her face, the arm on her chest slipping down to her throat and choking her. She knew by his breathing that he was about to come, so she left off struggling and gave into the sheer sensation of him.

 

Within seconds, her shrieks were joined by his deep groans of pleasure. She lay under him, panting, her body singing, until she felt his deep chuckle rumble in his chest.

 

“What?” she asked, her voice husky and full of lust.

 

“You’re a dirty little slut, you know tha’?” he laughed.

 

“Yeah. And you’re the dirty old man who led me astray,” she retorted, her deep, sexy laughter joining his. This was the ritual they went through every time Ginny got the urge to play the Game. She never won, but she didn’t really want to. She had too much fun losing.


End file.
